


Love Looks with the Mind

by Kirabaros



Series: Criminal Minds One-Shots [2]
Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-04 04:44:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16340072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kirabaros/pseuds/Kirabaros
Summary: Reid is still feeling the effects of Maeve's death. Spending time in a local park, he meets someone who understands his feelings and he becomes intrigued.





	Love Looks with the Mind

**Author's Note:**

> This introduces a love interest within the verse that created Michael Nassar for Reid.

It was rather a nice day for February in Virginia. A nice day for a walk and it was what Spencer Reid needed after the last few weeks. Some days he could still see it; he could see Maeve dying, killed by her stalker. He had felt angry and devastated. The only person he completely confided in apart from Alex was his best friend, Michael. They shared a bond that Alex asked if they ever considered themselves siblings.

It had made Michael laugh when Reid told him about it and his friend ended up saying, “She’s not wrong, Reid. We may be the same age but you’ve always been a brother to me.”

Michael had been the one to be understanding, particularly about that feeling of helplessness. He knew that feeling all too well. The thing was that his friend ended up being happy as a result. For Reid, he saw nothing but pain. He wasn’t resentful or jealous of his friend but he felt it unfair. So he had been trying to move on and trudge forward. At least he got to say hi to Sophia again when the team returned to Austin on another serial killer case.

Reid trudged about the park he had made a habit of coming to for the past few weeks and took a look around. There were people walking, kids playing, going about and enjoying being outdoors despite the February weather. It was like that saying that life does go on and it made him thoughtful as he found his usual bench and sat down, pulling out one of his favorite reads.

Just because he had an eidetic memory didn’t mean that he didn’t enjoy reading. Some books he read over and over again. This one happened to be one of his favorites. And it seemed to help. It lightened the feeling of sadness that had come and gone the past few weeks. It certainly passed the time since he was supposed to meet his friend and head over to his new place for dinner. He gave a slight smile at that since his friend would crash at his place for a week and then take off again and now he had a place of his own.

Reid looked at his wristwatch and noted the time. He hadn’t been there long and he had at least an hour maybe more before Michael would be by that way. He would make the most of it and enjoy reading. He could live through the familiar old adventure one more time as he had the past few days. He turned his attention to his book and sat back and continued to read, forcing himself not to read through it like he would a case file. Again another joke from his friend even though he was just as bad with reading material. It was rather encouraging that even when he couldn’t be there, his friend was with the memories.

It had been roughly a couple of hours when he finished the book and closed it. He rested it gently on his lap and just looked out at nothing in particular. He thought about Maeve. She was the first woman he had been serious about and had went to extreme lengths to keep safe. He had practice in that realm with Michael and his job but this had been different. In the end, he wasn’t careful enough and she died. He didn’t know if he would find another that would bring that feeling he liked when he was with Maeve. He continued to stare out at nothing and just let his thoughts ramble.

“You know there are one of two things that go with a face like that.”

Reid frowned and turned to face the owner of the voice. His gaze lit upon a woman seated on a camping stool in front of an easel. He replied, “What do you mean?”

The woman poked out from behind her easel. Reid was met with a pretty face that held hazel green eyes and golden brown locks that were pulled back in a messy soft bun at the nape of her neck. Her nose wrinkled slightly and she answered his question, “Just that the look you were having just a few seconds ago could mean one of two things.” She held up a finger while holding a brush, “One: someone just killed your puppy.” She held up another finger. “Two: you lost someone close to you and judging from your expression, a woman.”

Reid frowned at her, annoyed that someone had been watching him but at the same time intrigued. He shifted and leaned towards her, “And you know this how?”

“I am an expert at observing people my good man,” she replied with a smirk and a chuckle. She turned back to her canvas and continued to paint. “That and I’ve had my share of heartbreak. It’s like it has a universal look.”

“I don’t think there is such a thing.”

The woman peered from behind her easel and studied him. Reid stared back, accustomed to the staring from unsubs he had interviewed and faced and occasional teasing form Michael when he was in town. Yet she evoked a sense that she was seeing deep into him and he didn’t like it really but he wasn’t going to back down. He met her challenge even as she said, “Let me guess: you’re a genius. I’m guessing 185? IQ?”

“187 actually and eidetic memory. And I can read 20,000 words per minute.” Reid inwardly told himself to shut up. It had been a long time since he actually sounded like he did when he first joined the BAU. He cleared his throat while feeling out of sorts.

“Close on the points but right that you’re a genius and you probably tell people that intelligence can’t be quantified.” The woman chuckled as she continued to paint, occasionally peeking out from behind her canvas.

“There is no data that proves intelligence can be quantified.”

“But we try. It’s what makes us humans entertaining beings.”

Reid felt a smile creep on his lips as he watched the woman paint. He didn’t know what her IQ was but she was intelligent. He could hear it in her voice. Yet she had a bit of a flair that are often associated with artists; the kind that allowed her to be kooky and still carry on an intelligent conversation. In short, she was fun.

It surprised him how quickly he came to that conclusion and he didn’t even know her. He decided to keep going, “And what entertains you? About people I mean?” He cleared his throat feeling flustered that it may have appeared that he was flirting.

The woman chuckled and replied, “Lots of things.” She paused and shifted to look at Reid full on before adding, “I like how people try to hold up the expectations but their true selves leak through no matter what. Like you.”

“Me?”

“You look like you are the kid genius. People rely on you to come through with statistics and other information and could appear as freakish to some. Yet every time you rattle off a statistic or some irrelevant fact… it just tells that you are a vast wealth of knowledge but you are unsure how to express yourself without coming across as a snob or just… ridiculous.” She shifted to paint a few more strokes. Then she added, “But I like that. It’s cute.”

Reid made a slight sound at that. He muttered, “Cute.”

“In a good way. Intelligence is innocence in a pure form.”

Reid stared at her. “You seem to know a lot about that.” He crossed his legs and draped his forearms over his book as it rested on his lap.

“Only because people think I’m a genius. It’s what I get for being able to understand quantum mechanics at the age of twelve.”

“You’re a prodigy?”

“Please don’t call me that,” she snorted. She peered around and gave Reid a firm look. “I understand it and can give a hacker a nightmare or two but I am not a genius. I am just an artist.”

Reid had never met someone who was touchy about being intelligent. “But…”

“Zip it, Speedy. That’s the only thing I was good at and people blew it out of proportion. Took them awhile to get that I prefer art.”

Reid frowned at that and let her calm down a bit before asking, “Speedy?”

“You told me you read 20,000 words per minute. Man I wished for that with art history classes. All the books.”

Reid chuckled at that. As much as he was annoyed at the barbs and the scrutiny, he liked this woman. She wasn't afraid of him or viewed him as weird because he admitted to her guesses. He didn’t want to be rude and continue this conversation without knowing who she was. He offered, “I’m Spencer Reid.”

“Genevieve Cordova. Most people call me Gen.” She peered out from behind her easel and smiled. “Nice to meet you Spencer. Or would you prefer Doctor?”

“Spencer’s fine,” Reid hastened to correct her. He liked that she was personal and he didn’t want his achievements to be a barrier.

“Nah. I think I’ll call you Speedy,” Genevieve replied with a teasing glint in her eyes.

Reid couldn’t help the laugh that escaped and smiled. “Better than what Garcia calls me.” He looked up and explained, “Co-worker.”

“Figured that one out on my own,” Genevieve teased. She went back to her painting but continued to speak, “So tell me… was I right? About that look?”

Reid paused a moment. Normally he would have been annoyed at the pressing but he found that it wasn’t at all that bad. She was different and it wasn’t like she was trying to be nosy. She just… pointed out what was there. Deciding to risk it, he replied, “Yeah. I… uh… lost someone.”

“I’m sorry.”

Reid looked at Genevieve as she looked around her easel with a look of sympathy. It wasn’t fake but genuine. It compelled him to continue, “She was… she was… amazing.”

“Usually is the case. My… fiancé never failed to send me over the moon. And believe it or not it was over his neatly lined up figures on his spreadsheets.” Genevieve giggled as she remembered.

Reid stared, thinking she was a little bizarre but it was strangely endearing. He ventured, “What happened? To your fiancé?” When she looked at him he backtracked, “Sorry. You don’t have to…”

“He died,” Genevieve replied in an almost matter of fact tone. “Car accident.” She snorted at that. “Actually he was killed by a street racer.” She sighed and shrugged like it was what it was.

“I’m sorry,” Reid offered. He watched her a little. She seemed sad but she still got around and managed to move on. He looked around at nothing in particular before looking back at her. He decided to talk a little, “She was killed by her stalker.”

Genevieve paused in what she was doing and peered over her easel to look at him. She gave a sympathetic look and almost choked when she gave a dry chuckle. “Huh, seems like the only thing that I can say is clichéd.” She looked at Reid, “But I am sorry. And I am sorry I pried.”

“No, not at all,” Reid hastened to reassure her. He was caught off guard by the look that she was giving him. Like she was telling him that she wasn’t buying it. He tried again, “It’s not prying. You noticed something and commented on it.”

“To my own detriment,” Genevieve replied with a slight smile. She sighed and added, “I had to ask since you’ve been coming here to this exact spot this past week and you make the exact same face.”

“You’ve… noticed?”

“I come here every day, same time.” Genevieve gave a nervous laugh. “I sometimes think myself the next Monet. Other times, I do pastels. Painting though… my favorite.” She cleared her throat and went back behind her easel.

That was the first Reid had ever seen her nervous. She was like how he was when he tried to be social and ended up creating an awkward situation. It made him feel stupid because he never noticed she was there. He asked, “Always the same spot?”

“When I get into Impressionist mode… yes.” She didn’t come out from behind her easel.

Reid felt himself blush at that. He never noticed and yet she did. It had him wondering how long she thought over about asking him about it, talking to him. Or she was curious and tried to hold out but eventually it won out. He ventured, “Anything good?”

“Maybe. My real work is in my studio. This… relaxation.”

Reid thought about it a bit and offered, “I guess we all need a place that is not home or work. To help with the day.” He paused and stared at the easel, hoping she would come back out.

He wasn’t disappointed. She slowly reappeared and returned the stare. “Sounds about right,” she replied. She looked downward, not sure of where to go from there.

Reid picked up the slack, “You know feeling secure and safety is one of the basic needs in Maslow’s hierarchy of needs. And that without those needs being met, a person could feel anxious and tense and without the basics as a foundation, a person is not motivated to move to achieve other needs.”

“And where are you?”

Reid realized he had rambled on about something and she listened before directing the question to him. “What do you mean?”

“Where are you on the hierarchy? Are you motivated beyond physiological needs?”

“Um…”

Reid was quiet as he thought about it. He didn’t expect that from her. Certainly he had some deep seated moments with Alex but this… He turned inwardly to his thoughts, unaware that Genevieve had picked up her sketchbook and started sketching, taking a break in her painting. She was giving a slight smile as she started the basic outlines.

“Spence, there you are.”

Reid turned to see his friend Michael coming towards him with a grin on his face. “Mike? Uh…” He frowned and looked at his wristwatch. “Oh uh… sorry.”

Michael grinned and waved his hand, “Don’t worry about it. I know you get lost when you read your favorite book.” He paused and looked at the scene. “How’s everything?”

Reid managed to find himself and reply, “Doing better. I’ve been coming here. The company is good.” He cleared his throat before glancing over at Genevieve who was busy back at her painting. “So uh… we better get going.” He stood up and started walking in the direction where Michael would have parked the car.

Michael watched as Reid walked away, amused. He turned to see Genevieve starting to pack up her things. He wasn’t called a genius for nothing and was able to put two plus two and come out with five. With a gentle chuckle, he walked up to Genevieve and said, “Thank you.”

Genevieve had watched the exchange and came to a few conclusions. She decided to go since she didn’t have more to do and started packing up. It surprised her when the new arrival came up to her and thanked her. She stared at him, speechless.

“It’ll make sense eventually,” was all Michael said when he saw the look on his face before turning to catch up with Reid, leaving Genevieve to blink and frown in confusion. He caught up with Reid and asked, “So… have a good chat?”

“What do you mean?”

Michael laughed at that. “Spence, you don’t have to hide from me. I’ve been wondering if you found someone outside of me or Alex to talk with about Maeve or just talk in general.”

Reid frowned a little at that. He knew Michael was worried about him and while he didn’t press and barge in, he gave him hints that he was there to talk. He appreciated it and Michael knew enough to give him space unless he knew that it wasn’t going to do him any good. He replied, “Gen… she’s there when I am. We talk. I think she’s a genius.”

Michael listened as he ushered Reid to his car. While the conversation could be classified as strange, it wasn’t to him. To him it was a sign that his best friend and almost little brother was getting back on the horse again. He teased, “And she swooned over one of your random ramblings of statistics.”

“Actually she liked that I went into Maslow.”

Michael couldn’t help but laugh and began on a Q&A. Reid didn’t mind answering his friend’s questions. While it was excellent teasing material, it allowed him to think about that afternoon. He thought about the fact that he never noticed her before but she had always been there and decided to see what was wrong. But not in an intrusive way. It put him in a thoughtful mood throughout the evening to the point that Michael’s wife Sarai noticed it at dinner and asked him if something was bothering him.

“No. Nothing,” Reid replied, catching Michael’s eye.

“Just friendly conversation,” Michael hinted at vaguely. He gave a teasing glance at Reid.

The rest of the evening went smoothly and Reid went back to his apartment. He thought about Genevieve and their conversation. He wanted to see her again and talk again having found that he enjoyed it. He resolved to return to the park when he could.

It was a week later when he was able to return. The BAU had been swamped with cases to consult on and Michael had to return to duty. It left Reid feeling lonely but Sarai was in town. Normally she would have gone back to her missionary work so she could be in country with Michael but circumstances changed. That was a happy note and one that Michael took advantage of making him promise to keep an eye on her. Still he was a little lonely and it was his day off.

He trudged to the park with a copy of Jules Vern under his arm. It was one of the whimsical works of literature he kept for fun. He walked through the park and stopped at a coffee stand. It was probably foolish since he was assuming she would be there. It was not logical since she could be doing work in her studio or something else but he just had a feeling. Again not very logical.

He carried the coffee and his book to his usual spot and was pleased that she was there set up with her easel but she was sitting with her sketchpad on her lap with her legs crossed and she was staring at his bench. Was she waiting for him too?

Taking initiative that would have pleased his friend Morgan, he walked up to her and offered the coffee, “Coffee?”

Genevieve smelt the coffee first before it was offered. And she had been thinking about getting a cup for some time. She saw the hand and looked up at its owner. She smiled, “Yes. Thank you Speedy.”

Reid couldn’t help but smiled at that, realizing that he had missed being called that. He waited until she took the cup before putting his hand in his pocket. “I uh… wasn’t sure how you liked it. It’s black.”

“Perfect.” Genevieve popped the lid to take a sniff of the grounds. It smelled heavenly and she breathed it in, not noticing that Reid was watching.

“Great.” Reid cleared his throat and looked around. His previous courage had failed and he had no idea what to do next. He shuffled on his feet and looked for something to say.

“Can I ask you to do something?”

Reid looked at Genevieve, “Yeah.”

“Would you mind just sitting like normal on that bench?” Genevieve gestured at his bench. “I’d like to sketch you. Maybe paint.”

If it had been anyone but Reid, they would have taken it in a different direction with that. Reid though seized on it as an opportunity to be in her company. He answered, “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

Reid sat down and looked at her but she wasn’t looking at him. Rather she was checking her phone for messages and prayed that she wasn’t going to leave. He made himself comfortable by crossing his legs at the knees to prop his book up and he slouched slightly. It was bad posture but it was a habit he picked up and one that Michael encouraged. Comfort made for great reading was what he had said and when not at work, Reid adopted it.

It was about ten minutes before Reid glanced up from his reading and noticed that Genevieve was sketching. He thought about what he had learned and decided, “So… I heard that you’re famous for your paintings of everyday life. Your work at the Indian reservation in Wyoming was… is considered phenomenal.”

“You sound like the reviews I’ve read in the magazines.”

Reid cleared his throat and looked at his book. Finally he said, “I know that your obsession with life scenes stems from probably childhood. You were in the foster care system and…” He looked up to see her looking at him. “And… you saw… life that you… Sorry.”

“Did you just profile me?”

Reid looked up and saw the bemused expression on her face. “Uh… I read your biography and what you said about why you paint the way you do. And… yes.”

The laughter was unexpected followed by, “I was wondering when Dr. Speedy was going to profile me.” Genevieve looked at Reid with a grin. “Kind of habit right, G-man?”

“Uh…”

“Relax, Speedy. I took a guess and the way you walk.” Genevieve chuckled, “And I have my sources.”

Reid relaxed once he saw that she was amused. “I work for the BAU. The Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

“Explains the Maslow.” Genevieve put her sketch pad down where she could see it and picked up her palette to start mixing her paints. “Seems liked we both try to see humanity. I look for what we dream and you chase the nightmares.”

Reid looked at her as she concentrated on her painting. She had a way of saying things that made sense. “Well we study behaviors of criminals and use it to catch the ones still out there.”

“Chasing nightmares.”

“And you chase dreams.” Reid has uttered it in a matter of fact tone and looked at her.

“I do now.” Genevieve peered over her easel and then moved her brush and painted a series of strokes. “I used to chase nightmares. A picture is said to be worth a thousand words. A photo captures a memory but to paint it… Have you ever heard of the artist Sombra?”

“Can’t say I have.”

“That is chasing nightmares. People don’t like to admit that there are bad things out there. Sombra… talk about capturing and preserving.”

Reid frowned a little at that and thought about what she had said. It then occurred to him that she painted under another name. She was telling him a little about herself. It had him wonder what things she had seen to make her feel the need to paint them and share the world. “I guess we all need a peek. Art doesn’t have to be pretty.”

Genevieve looked up, pausing in mid stroke to look at him. He was staring at her and she replied with a soft smile, “No it doesn’t. And it is nice when someone appreciates that sentiment.” She paused a moment before adding, “I bet you can tell what kind of person an artist is by looking at their work. That’s profiling right?”

“Um…”

Genevieve laughed a little and Reid couldn’t help but chuckle. He went back to looking at his book, reading a few lines before answering, “You’re right. About profiling.”

“I’m always right.”

“Actually that is an improbability…”

They went back and forth the rest of the afternoon until Genevieve declared that she had done enough for the day and asked Reid if he wouldn’t mind posing again the next time he came to the park. Reid agreed to that citing that he could call her when he was free only to be stopped by her holding a scrap of sketch paper with a number on it. The next words out of his mouth put him on a path that opened a new door.

“Would you like to go out for dinner?”


End file.
